


anemone

by cripplingdepresso, goanty



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eurovision Song Contest 2018, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Italy, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, it's set during the esc week so more characters would be added probably, italian sounds nice, or is it really, we had to use google translate for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cripplingdepresso/pseuds/cripplingdepresso, https://archiveofourown.org/users/goanty/pseuds/goanty
Summary: / The anemone indicates fading hope or the feeling of being forsaken. It symbolizes forgotten love and affection, the death of a loved one, or the loss of them to someone else /Ermal starts coughing up vibrant red flowers and he doesn't know why.





	1. red petals

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in ao3! :^D  
> i wrote this with my very great friend, goanty, to try and get myself out of writer's block after exhausting myself over our school break doing rps on fb and some other sites. i hope you enjoy reading this <3  
>   
> dialogue in italics - spoken in a language aside from english

It all started when a petal fell out of Ermal’s mouth.

It swayed along the breeze as it slowly descended onto his cup of coffee, landing right in the middle of its milky swirl. He didn’t notice it at first. And he only did once he took another sip of his drink and felt its tip against his upper lip. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled away, finally seeing the petal floating gently on top. Ermal gently plucked the petal out of his cup. It was round, bright red that suddenly turned into white in its inner tip as if it was dipped in paint.

Did the petal come with the coffee? Well if it was then he should have noticed it earlier. Or maybe he just didn’t notice because he was too preoccupied with everything. Too preoccupied with his own thoughts. About the interviews, the rehearsals, the upcoming performance, practically everything about being part of Eurovision. Saying he was nervous was an understatement. The contest was the only thing in his thoughts, aside from a certain someone.

He sighed and placed the lone petal on the table just beside the cup. He let his mind wander off to something else in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

In all honesty, his morning walk ( _and coffee_ ) around Lisbon _was_ his attempt to calm his anxiety, but that didn’t seem to work. Alone time used to be his remedy for pretty much anything. This one seemed to be a special case.

He could already imagine Fabrizio’s teasing the moment he’d know about his apparent anxiety, almost as a way of getting even with the amount of times Ermal would basically bully the older man.

“ _And I thought I was the more anxious one…_ ” He’d probably say.

Ermal almost chuckled if it weren’t for the fact that he’d look like a lunatic inside the small coffee shop for laughing at nothing. He took another sip of his coffee. His eyes glanced at the red petal once more.

He wondered what flower it came from. He had to admit, it looked pretty nice with its white tip and all. Maybe he could ask the barista later.

Ermal safely kept the petal under a folded napkin.

Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fished it out and noticed that he had received a new text from one of the Italian delegates. They were looking for him. It struck him odd, since he knew that all their official business related to the competition just start after lunch. Why would anyone look for him this early in the morning?

“ _Oh well,_ ” he muttered under his breath. He finished his cup of coffee and stood up from the chair. He was about to leave when he remembered what he was planning to do earlier. Ermal walked up to the counter.

“Excuse me,” he said. The barista, who seemed to be making someone else’s order, turned to his direction.

“Yes, Sir?” the young fellow, Cornelio (according to his name tag), smiled. Ermal took the napkin out his pocket and showed the barista the lone, delicate petal. “I'm not sure if this is one of your shop’s quirks but I must say this petal is beautiful. What flower is this?” he asked.

The barista simply looked at the petal and continued smiling at Ermal as if he was a silly child showing his parent a toy. “Excuse me, Sir?”

“This petal. I found it in my coffee.”

“What?” the barista’s smile disappeared and his eyes widened, “ _Oh, céus!_ I am so sorry, Sir! I promise that I didn't mean to dirty your coffee. I'm not quite sure how that got in there. Ahm, please let me take that.” The barista timidly yet swiftly plucked the petal out of Ermal’s palm and threw it in the bin. “Once again, I am so sorry. Please do not complain to my manager.”

Ermal stood dumbfounded, staring at the pouting barista who took his silence as anger and was beginning to run his mouth again before Ermal finally spoke. “You mean to say, you didn't put the petal in my coffee?”

The barista shook his head furiously.

“Oh...well, okay then. But could you at least tell me what type of flower it is?”

“Ah! _Sim, sim_ , yes,” the boy said as he took the bin’s top off to retrieve the petal. ‘ _Disgusting,’_ Ermal thought, but he appreciated the effort.

“Sir, this is a petal of an anemone, one of the most beautiful flowers in this world. They're a popular garden flower—my grandmother has them in her backyard—but I assume you're more interested in its meaning, yes?”

Ermal nodded. The barista continued, “My grandmother used to tell me that anemones serve protection against bad omens, but some people say the exact opposite. That it represented bad luck.”

Ermal slowly nodded his head as he listened to the boy.

“But this one,” The barista glanced at the bright red petal, “Is more connected to the negative side. Forsaken love, even the loss of a loved one. So if I did, say, put a petal on your coffee, I wouldn’t ever put that kind. I would’ve chosen a purple or a blue anemone.”

“I’m honestly surprised you know a lot about flower meanings,” Ermal commented.

He chuckled, “Well I am studying them. Flowers, I mean. This is only part-time job.”

“Oh! That’s nice.” Ermal was pleasantly surprised. “So you’re studying botany in college?”

The barista nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, sir.”

Ermal was about to say something when he noticed more people coming in the cafe, so he decided to put the conversation to a halt. “Well then, I see that you still have a shop to tend to and coffee to make and somewhere to go, so I’ll leave you be. Thanks for the interesting talk though.” He told the barista.

The boy, Cornelio, smiled. “Okay then. Goodbye, sir, and thank you for ordering.”

He left the coffee shop and made his way back to the hotel. Ermal’s thoughts went back to why he was being called there in the first place. There might be a meeting of some sorts, or maybe there was a sudden interview. He’ll never know unless he got there so he quickened the pace of his steps. Ermal felt his phone buzz once more, a sign that the delegation was already looking for him. He ignored the message, retaining his speed as he admired the streets of Lisbon. He never liked it when people nagged him.

* * *

 

When he arrived at the hotel, he did not expect a grumpy-looking Fabrizio on the lobby couch, fluffy jacketed-arms folded and one of the Italian delegates coercing him to do something.

“ _Bizio, you—”_

_“Don't call me that, you old geezer! Only mama and Ermal can call me Bizio.”_

_“Old geezer?! Why you…”_

_“Hey,”_ Ermal interrupted, effectively stopping the delegate from choking Fabrizio to death, “ _What did I miss? Oh, Bizio, you have no right to call anybody an old geezer if you're one yourself.”_

_“Ermal!”_ the older practically flung himself at the younger. Ermal was tickled by the sensation of the former’s leather jacket sticking to his skin. “ _Where have you been? Someone suddenly called a while ago saying that they moved their scheduled interview with us earlier today. You have to get ready in fifteen minutes.”_

_“Bizio, I am always already. I'm in my suit jacket, my hair is styled, and—wait, what are you changing into?”_ Ermal watched, petrified, as Fabrizio began to wear a horrendous oversized jacket that resembled those worn by the fishermen of Southern Italy.

“ _You like it?”_ Fabrizio smiled charmingly as he shrugged his shoulder into a pose. “ _No!”_ Ermal practically screamed and laughed at the same time as he tore the sinful article off Fabrizio’s body. “ _Are you kidding me?! Where’s the monthly sardines, mister fisherman? How's the sea this month?”_

Fabrizio groaned and proceeded to wear his black leather jacket once more. “ _Alright, alright, I get it. I won't wear that incredibly stylish jacket just for you today...but I will wear it during the pre-party.”_

_“Oh, please, do yourself a favor and don't,”_ Ermal chuckled, dropping his body on the couch and throwing his head back as he laughed once more at how Fabrizio’s hair was tousled all over the place. “ _I really like your style, Bizio. You look homeless.”_

_“I really like your smile, Ermal,”_ Fabrizio grinned with a twinkle in his eye before one of the stylists arrived to fix his hair (which Ermal knew was a lost cause since it had a mind of its own and was incredibly untamable).

At that moment, Ermal felt a blunt pain inside his chest that soon transitioned to a searing one after a few seconds. He clenched the front of his formerly well-ironed shirt and shot up from the sofa, unmissed by Fabrizio who was just about to go to the styling room.

“ _Ermal!_ ” the older shouted, catching Ermal before he could collapse against the marble wall. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

The feeling of Fabrizio’s touch provided every sensation except comfort. It felt as if the older’s fingertips were matches lit against his skin. Out of reflex, the younger pushed Fabrizio of him and whimpered.

“ _No! I, I have to go!”_ Ermal managed to breathe out as he ran off to the elevator. He didn't look back, too scared to, and thus failed to see the most heartbroken look grace Fabrizio’s face.

The bellboy looked at him weirdly the moment the elevator doors closed behind him. Him, who was visibly panting in agony and curved over against the glass walls. Because of the pain, the wait to their hotel room’s floor felt a millennia. He practically scrambled out of the elevator and barely managed to open the door with his key.

“ _Ack!”_ Ermal screamed out vocally. It was no doubt, it was the same pain. The same suffering he had experienced before, similar to the description of branches sticking against the inside of his chest.

With tears in his eyes, he blindly made his way to the bathroom, ignoring his cleanliness standards as he leaned against the toilet seat lest he started vomiting.

But instead of bile and chunks of food, a different material exploded out of his mouth.

Petals. And not just simply petals, _anemone_ petals. Bloody red, white at the tips, and intimidatingly gorgeous.

Harsher coughs tore through his chest, his hands clutched his shirt tighter as if his fingers were trying to claw its way into his lungs just to _ease_ the pain. More and more petals fell from his mouth and into the toilet, some of them flying somewhere else. He felt his knees weaken. Ermal was shaking.

Ermal’s breath was quick and shallow. His eyes were red, soaked with tears.

He continued to cough and expel petals. His throat felt like it was burning as he felt them pass through his throat. Quietly he wished that there was someone inside the room as well, at least someone who could keep him company and relieve him of whatever the hell was happening to him. It only lasted for a couple of minutes, but it felt like days for Ermal.

Soon, the pain started to subside. The hot sensation on his chest slowly dissipated. But he still felt weak.

He sat still in the bathroom, just staring into the bowl.

The petals peacefully floated on the water. They taunted him. The drops of blood on the petals were masqueraded by their brilliant red, and the water slowly turned light pink as it made contact with them.

Silence enveloped the room.

The grip around his shirt started to loosen. His eyes were still planted onto the petals.

Ermal carefully stood up from the cold white tiles of the bathroom. He perched himself against the sink to try and regain his balance. The room felt like it was spinning. His feet stumbled around for a moment, but soon he recovered his footing.

The pain might have disappeared but he still felt horrible. Everything felt so heavy, like he was to crash down onto the floor once again. His confusion didn’t really help either. Out of all things he could have coughed out. It was flowers.

Ermal slowly picked out the petals that have made their way onto the floor, and as he did he remembered the barista’s earlier words. _Forsaken love, or the loss of a loved one_.

He closed his eyes tightly as the nausea returned.

Wait.

He still had an interview.

An interview that was supposed to start in a few minutes, maybe a few _seconds._ He didn’t even know how much time he had left and whether or not the interviewers would wait for him.

Panic filled his gut as he realized that Fabrizio was most likely already with them. Alone. With interviewers. _English-speaking_ interviewers.

_“Shit,”_ he grumbled as he smoothened out his attire before scrambling for the door. While waiting for the awfully slow elevator to arrive at his floor, his phone rang as their manager called him.

“ _Ermal! Ermal, arrive here immediately, please! Mamma mia! Bizio! He's making a fool of himself. Didn't I tell you to teach him that goodbye is different from good morning?! Look at the smiling fool!”_

‘ _Oh, brother,’_ Ermal slammed his forehead on the elevator doors.


	2. something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coughing out flowers and realizing that you're in love with someone aren't so mutually exclusive after all.

**“** _Ermal, what happened to you awhile ago?”_ Fabrizio asked, looking at the younger man who had just finished shaking the hands of the interviewers. They were kind enough to patiently wait for Ermal before starting the broadcast. One of them was the same woman who had interviewed the pair during the first premiere of Eurovision 2018.

The questions were same old, aside from a few new questions here and there and a lot of jokes about Fabrizio since the man was a toddler when it came to speaking English. Of course, the interviewers couldn't resist commenting on Fabrizio’s outfit.

Now they were on their way back to their room, which was more of a suite than anything. Fabrizio decided to eat lunch somewhere other than the hotel, so the both of them took the remaining time to change their clothes to something more comfortable.

_“Nothing, Fabri. I just felt a sudden pain to my chest. Must be because of fatigue and drinking too much coffee.”_

A couple minutes passed, and they were already in front of the door. Ermal slid the keycard into the slot. The lock gave a short beep, unlocking the hotel room. He opened the door and gestured Fabrizio to go in first. So he did.

 _“Hmm,”_ Fabrizio gave a noncommittal hum, as if he didn't believe what Ermal said. The bastard knew the younger one well enough to know when he's fibbing which, to Ermal, is quite impressive since he considers himself the master of masking his emotions and lying. He had to grow up doing it constantly after all.

Fabrizio started taking off his jacket nonchalantly. Right in front of Ermal. The room felt hotter all of a sudden, and Ermal had to unbutton his collar because of it. He looked away.

The same heat on his chest bubbled back, and his breaths became more shallow as he found it harder to breathe. The same feeling from a while ago. At that point, Ermal had noticed a trend.

 _‘I'm not lying about the fatigue and coffee but the main reason is you, you son of a bitch,’_ Ermal said in his head but what came out of his mouth was, “ _Don't worry about it.”_

That didn't seem to be what Fabrizio wanted to hear, as the older scrunched his face in annoyance and suddenly grabbed Ermal’s hand in his. _‘Fuck,’_ Ermal thought while smiling. Suddenly the vase near the door looked a little bit too interesting. Maybe also the warmth of Fabrizio’s hand. But the vase wins.

“ _Ermal, you are my close friend. You mean so much to me that I cannot help but worry about you and think of you all the time.”_ Fabrizio’s raspy voice sounded like it was the only sound in the room for a moment. The older man’s calloused hands softly caressed his, and Ermal found it harder and harder to keep his eyes on the vase.

Now Ermal couldn’t get Fabrizio’s words off his head. Was that a confession? No. No, it couldn’t be. Just typical, brotherly affection, _right_? That was the most logical explanation, it had to be. A confession from Fabrizio would be damn near impossible. He’d watched and read the interviews, fully knowing the older man’s stance on love.   

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing seemed to come out. For a split second he considered maybe telling him about the fact that _he started coughing out flowers all of a sudden_ . But he can’t just do that. He just couldn’t bring himself to say “ _The stress about all of this might have done something to my head and just earlier I practically vomited flowers or I hallucinated vomiting flowers and what’s worse is that it only happens when I think of you,_ ” because he knows for a fact that he’ll just end up in some mental institution somewhere. Besides, he didn’t want to make Fabrizio worry much more, with everything that’s happened so far. Ermal didn’t want to be a burden, not anymore.

To put it simply, Ermal was scared. And he hated that feeling. He hated feeling weak, and not knowing what to do. He felt like he had to have some sort of control over everything. His current situation was starting to slip out of his grip, and he didn’t like it one bit.

There was a tingle in his throat, and he harshly pulled away to cover his mouth from an oncoming cough. It tore him away from his thoughts, and he thanked fate for that (if it even existed).

Fabrizio looked at him with worry in his eyes, coming closer to the younger man as a kind of motherly instinct. Meanwhile Ermal stepped back as he coughed a couple more times. He turned away to try and hide the petals that were coming out.

It wasn’t as bad as earlier, so he managed to hastily stuff the petals inside his coat. He looked at the hand he used to cover his mouth. To his surprise he saw an full anemone bloom resting on his palm. ‘ _Oh God, I just coughed out an entire flower,_ ’ he thought. Ermal felt Fabrizio’s hand on his shoulder, turning him around.

“ _Did you catch a sickness, Ermal?_ ”

He put the anemone behind him, hidden from Fabrizio’s view.

“ _No, it’s just my allergies… I think someone brought their cat back there. I’m fine, I swear._ ” Ermal had to admit, his slightly blushing cheeks actually made him look more believable.

Fabrizio looked at him oddly. The worry on his face still evident.

“ _Like I said, don’t worry about it. Everything’s fine._ ”

No, it wasn’t.

“ _Of course it is,”_ Fabrizio whispered with a smile that was everything but true. “ _Everything is fine and you can go on without me having to know what's going on.”_

Ermal’s eyes widened, “ _No, Bizio, I—”_

 _“No, Ermal, it's fine. I get it, I, I know I'm overbearing sometimes and it pisses you off. I'm sorry. I, I really am,”_ Fabrizio said as he brought Ermal closer and pulled him into a literally heart wrenching hug for the latter. “ _But I want you to let me take care of you when you need me.”_

Fabrizio pulled back to look at Ermal, and at that moment Ermal felt a comfortable dissolution in his chest.

“Okay,” he answered. Luckily, there were no petals falling out his lips.

The hotel unit fell into silence, but it was the kind that was awkward, or pressure inducing. It was the type that was comforting. Finally. The hot feeling in Ermal’s chest didn’t resurface afterwards, and that was good. Fabrizio returned to his own little room to change, leaving him alone in the small living room.  

Now that Fabrizio was completely out of sight, he had all the time to refresh himself. He went into his own room and started to take off his coat. Ermal hung it on the nearest chair, with some of the petals that were stuffed in its pockets fell out. The new mess made him cringe, but he managed to force himself to just clean it up later. He left and went into the bathroom once again.

He flicked on the bathroom lights and the first thing he saw in the mirror were his awfully dark eyebags.

God, he looked like shit. It was a miracle that the interviewers didn’t seem to notice anything. Ermal obviously still hasn’t recovered from his coughing episode that morning.

“Ugh.” Ermal groaned when he saw himself. He turned on the faucet, splashing some water onto his face.

He wiped his eyes, hoping that his dark circles would just magically disappear if he did so. Ermal knew that would never happen though (besides, he was _somewhat_ okay with having them anyway). So when he looked back up into the mirror he was expecting to see the same old thing, the same old person who’s been through too much for his own good. But for a split second he only saw a bouquet of those _bright red anemones_ instead of his own head.

Ermal snapped his eyes shut and started to massage his forehead.

“ _It’s just the stress catching up to me. It’s just the stress catching up to me. That wasn’t real. It’s just the stress. It’s all right. Just the stress,_ ” Ermal told himself. He hadn’t realized that things were already escalating that quickly until now.       

Of course this _thing_ he has won’t let him have his peace and quiet until - until what?

Right. He still didn’t know whatever the _fuck_ was happening to him. Well not exactly.

He opened his eyes, and everything was back to normal… kind of.

Ermal was about to search his symptoms right there and then when he heard a knock on the door. He heard the all-familiar voice of Fabrizio saying, “ _Are you almost done?_ ”

“ _Yeah, almost done._ ”

He checked himself out on the mirror one more time before leaving the bathroom. Ermal was surprised to see that Fabrizio was literally just outside. “ _I was waiting for you the entire time, you know._ ”

“Oh.”

“ _I should have packed an extra diffuser didn’t I?_ ”

Despite everything, Ermal still couldn’t help but grin at Fabrizio’s horrible attempt at a jab. “ _Very funny, Fabri. Pretty sure a catheter would have been more useful._ ”

The walk to the restaurant was uneventful, considering that Ermal was trying to hide the fact that he just full on dissociated in the bathroom. Fabrizio was walking alongside him, giving him glances every now and then.

They weren’t alone however, some members of the Italian delegation were also with them. Making it harder for him to talk about anything that happened earlier. Ermal already had Fabrizio worrying about him, and he didn’t want anyone else to do the same.

Since the two of them weren’t that familiar with the streets of Lisbon, one of the delegates had searched up restaurants they could go to. They picked a place and ate there. But not once the entire time did Ermal say a word to Fabrizio. The older man tried to strike up a conversation with him, but there was something that kept him from doing so.

They finished eating, and Fabrizio went up to one of the delegates and said something Ermal couldn’t make out. When they finished talking, Ermal walked closer to Fabrizio.

“ _Fabri, what were you two talking about?_ ”

The moment Fabrizio heard Ermal’s voice, more specifically Ermal’s voice talking to him, an expression of relief was plastered on his face.

Ermal let out a nervous chuckle. “ _Oh, if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I just realized the way I soun -_ “

“ _No no, It’s fine._ ”

Fabri smiled and Ermal’s heart felt like it was melting. He didn’t know if it was because of the flowers, or if that was just him.

“ _I just told him I have to run off to buy something.”_

Ermal looked at him, confused. “ _Something?_ ”

“ _I saw it on the way here and it looked cute. Maybe I could bring it back home as a souvenir._ ”

That didn’t really answer his question, but he let it slide anyways. “ _You know how to get back to the hotel?_ _For all we know your old age must have messed up your sense of direction._ ”

Fabrizio laughed. “ _Don’t worry, I know. If anything, all these years actually improved my sense of direction._ ”

After the exchange, Fabrizio went on his way to buy that  _ something _ . Meanwhile Ermal and the other delegates returned to the hotel. Ermal had to admit that he wasn’t used to not having Fabrizio with him, even when he was drinking coffee alone that morning. He found it weird, he used to be okay with it. He used to just lock himself in his room and play on his guitar or do some other thing he found interesting. But now he didn’t feel like doing any of those anymore.

* * *

 

Later than evening, Ermal huddled himself on the bed with his laptop on his lap as Fabrizio busied himself in cooking food for dinner.

 _“_ Chest pain coughing out flowers _,”_ Ermal typed in the search bar which was automatically translated to Portuguese due to the server. While there was no option to translate it to Italian, there luckily was an option to translate it to English.

The first results practically had the same headline. “Hanahaki disease,” Ermal whispered to himself as he read the Wikipedia title. “ _So that's what it's called._ ” The next few results consisted of “Hanahaki Disease: The History Behind”, “How to get rid of Hanahaki Disease”, “HELP! I have Hanahaki but I'm not even in love with the person”, and finally “Hanahaki Girls, desirable pleasure awaits”.

To say Ermal was overwhelmed was an understatement. Apparently the sickness was quite prominent worldwide, so how come he's never heard of it until now.

He scrolled back and clicked the Wikipedia link.

“Hanahaki disease is a disease which causes the victim to cough up flower petals as a result of suffering one-sided love.”

“ _One-sided...”_ Ermal mumbled to himself. “ _Ermal! The pasta is almost done!”_ Fabrizio called from the kitchen.

“ _Okay!”_ Ermal continued reading. But he couldn’t quite focus anymore.

Love.

One-sided.

The words rung in his head.

He felt the flowers pass through his throat, but swallowed them back down.

“Treatment requires the beloved to reciprocate the feelings of the affected person. Although severe cases might need surgical removal, but doing so would also remove the person’s feelings for the beloved.”

The flowers came back harsher this time. He was forced to let it all out.

Ermal coughed the anemones from the side of the bed. The vibrant red petals camouflaged the drops of blood on its surface.

“ _Ermal?_ ” Fabrizio called out again.

Then he heard footsteps approach his door. Ermal raced towards the doorway and stopped the door from opening fully.

“ _Sorry for taking so long, I was just chatting with my grandma again. You know how it is._ ”

Fabrizio’s face softened. “ _Dinner’s ready._ ”

“ _Oh yeah, I was about to head there._ ” Ermal said with a bit of a forced smile. He left the room and went with Fabrizio to the kitchen.

On the dining table, there rests a small vase with light purple flowers. The long and thin petals, the opposite to the round and short of the anemone’s, were pointed downwards. It made the flowers look like cones especially since the center was shaped like one.

He found the blossoms beautiful, and it made their hotel suite a little bit like home.

“ _Was this the something you were talking about?_ ”

Fabrizio nodded.

Ermal couldn't believe that he had fallen for this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after almost a month of procrastination on my part, we finally finished the second chapter of anemone! hell yeah  
> we apologize for the pretty long wait, but we hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading !!


	3. sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Eurovision comes closer, Ermal has to do something about the anemones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaa it's been so long huhu  
> tbh nothing really happens in this chapter except for ermal thinking about his feelings for fabri lmao

Ermal never really slept properly.

Maybe he did. When he was a baby. On second thought, he wasn’t sure about that either.

He just found it hard to settle down, close his eyes, and turn himself off from the world for 7 to 9 hours. He thought that it was a waste of time. Ermal felt like he could be using those hours for something else, something productive. An hour of being on standby extremely bothers him already let alone _seven._ He needed to do _at least something_ at all times. That’s why he couldn’t stop himself from doing as many live shows as he could back in Italy. Ermal’s horrid sleeping habits gave rise to his awfully deep and dark eyebags. And now he covers them by wearing sunglasses to practically everywhere he went.

But of course his body forces him to sleep. There’s a constant tugging force telling him to go to the nearest layable flat surface and just black out for 12 hours. Ermal fought against that tugging force most of the time. Although in the end, he gets a bit too drowsy for his own good and so he settles for 4 hours. Nothing more than that.

Now it was 1 in the morning, and Ermal was sitting on the edge of the bed plucking a random rhythm on the guitar’s strings. Meanwhile Fabrizio was sound asleep in his room. He doesn’t know about his tendency to stay up until ungodly hours at night, and Ermal doesn’t want him to know anytime soon. It was a good thing that Fabrizio always slept first than him. So all he had to do was to say “good night”, return to his room, and pretend to be asleep as well. It always worked.

As he played impromptu melodies, he still couldn’t get Fabrizio out of his thoughts. He’d been repressing his coughing throughout the night, trying to muffle out the noise by covering his mouth with his hands. Ermal didn’t want to give away that he was still awake. The anemones aren’t helping. He still couldn’t fathom the fact that he was in love with the guy. Just like the flowers, he couldn’t help it.

In all actuality, Ermal just doesn’t want to accept the fact that it’s the flowers that are keeping him awake this time.

How could he be so dumb? He was so preoccupied with everything that he never stopped and realized that he was slowly falling. Ermal’s grip on the guitar neck tightened, letting the strings dig deeper into his fingers.

Ermal couldn’t get over the words ‘love’, especially ‘one-sided love’.

It was one thing to realize that you’re in love, and a completely different thing to realize that you’re in love with someone who doesn’t even return your feelings. Especially a man who has said that he couldn’t even _love romantically anymore_.  

Besides, how could he do that to himself? To Silvia? Even if they did end on pretty good terms, it just didn’t feel right to him to throw away _nine_ years and suddenly fall for someone else as quickly as that. It felt so wrong, and Ermal hated that it still happened anyways. And he didn’t even notice. Maybe if he did, all of this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he could’ve controlled it. But he didn’t. And now he was here.

He couldn’t believe it.

How did he not realize:

How he started staring at Fabrizio way longer than he should’ve.

How he started longing more for Fabrizio’s touch.

How much his heart fluttered every time he heard his voice.

How much he’d been listening to his music on repeat.

How he wished that this entire thing wouldn’t end despite how taxing this whole thing was.

And most importantly, how much his love for him grew.

Ermal doubled over as another batch of flowers fought its way out of his throat, interrupting the music and his train of thought once again. He placed his hands over his mouth as an attempt to lower the noise. Red petals slipped through his fingers.

His eyes glanced over to the floor for a moment, taking note of each petal. The longer he stared, the more his situation dawned on him.

This was bad. _Very bad._

Eurovision.

His voice. His voice had to be in the best condition, and having flowers scratching against his vocal chords was definitely not a good thing. Ermal’s anxiety returned as he subconsciously pictured himself messing up the falsetto at the end of the song. He could already feel everyone’s judgement before it even happened. Twenty million people. Ermal couldn’t fathom messing up in front of _twenty million people all over the world._ He knew he had to do something before the semi-finals came especially with how worse his illness seemed to become.

If Ermal was already coughing out full blossoms at this point, what more two days from now? How the hell would he get Fabrizio to reciprocate his feelings under three days? He felt that all odds were against him. Ermal frowned.

Although, there was the easy way out. He’d seen it written in the Wikipedia article.

“Other alternatives have been created, such as medicine that could safely eliminate the flowers.”

But Ermal knew that killing the flowers in his lungs would also remove his feelings for Fabrizio. He could save himself from all of this in exchange for the bond they shared. As much as he hated constantly coughing out flowers, he didn’t want all of their work to go to waste. The song was a product of their love. It felt such a cop out to just throw it all away.

He glanced over to the clock only to find out that it was already 2 AM. Tomorrow was the start of the shooting for the postcards, and they were asked to leave at around 7:30 AM even though they won’t really do anything until later. Ermal placed his guitar down and lied on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, silently wishing that all of his predicament was just a dream. Slowly he felt drowsiness wash over him and soon enough he finally slept.

* * *

 

 

The ringing of the alarm woke him up. His eyes fluttered open and he turned to look at the time. 5 AM. Just right on schedule. Ermal was the last to sleep, but the first to wake up. Fabrizio would still be asleep until an hour from now. How did the old man even manage to get ready under an hour? Only God knew. Ermal’s morning routine was time consuming. It took so long for his curly hair to dry, even with his diffuser. So he somewhat envied how quick Fabrizio was.

Before he got ready, Ermal took the time to pick up the flowers and petals he coughed out last night. He couldn’t risk being discovered by anyone. The anemones were insultingly beautiful as usual, and he hated that fact. One of the anemones he’d picked up even had the stem with it making Ermal wonder _how the hell_ he managed to get that out of him. He shrugged and threw the rest of the flowers away. Except for that particular one. It served as a reminder of what he had to do. He placed it on top of the drawer for now.

Ermal looked out of the window, taking in the morning scenery of Lisbon. Mornings felt so serene, tranquil. But that also meant that they were the calm before the storm. He observed the surrounding environment for a couple seconds, then continued on with his morning routine.

The rest of the hour was spent taking a bath and getting ready. Thankfully, the coughing subsided momentarily so he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble picking up flowers again. Must be because his mind went to other things, like the upcoming events, rehearsals and interviews. The good thing was that _there’s going to be more people_ which meant that he could talk to them to preoccupy his mind. The bad thing was that _there’s going to be more people_ who could find out that he got a pretty bad case of Hanahaki. Ermal wouldn’t want to know what would happen if someone saw him.

Ermal managed to finish earlier than he expected, so he exited his room and headed to the kitchen to prepare himself and Fabrizio breakfast. Ermal brought along the anemone, thinking that it would make a good addition to the vase. To his surprise (and luck) however, the blue vase only had space for one more flower. Which he had to admit was weird. He was sure there were less coneflowers there yesterday. Ermal didn’t pay any more attention to the number of flowers in the vase and tucked in the anemone. The striking red contrasted the pastel purple. He found it nice.

He cooked themselves some eggs and bacon. The appetizing aroma of the food filled the room as Ermal fanned away the smoke coming from the pan. As much as possible, he wouldn’t want to put up with the noise of the smoke detector. Soon enough, he heard a door open followed by footsteps.

“ _Buongiorno, Ermal._ ”

“ _Buongiorno, Fabri._ ”

Fabrizio walked over to Ermal, and the latter could feel his breath on his neck. “ _Is that eggs and bacon?_ ” The shorter man asked. Then Fabrizio put his arm around Ermal’s shoulder. The old man really didn’t know about the concept of personal space, didn’t he? He could already feel the flowers coming back. _Godammit Bizio._

“ _Yes, it’s obviously eggs and bacon._ ”

Fabrizio smiled and asked, “ _Do you want me to prepare coffee?_ ” To which Ermal replied to with a nod. He felt Fabrizio pull away as he walked to another part of the kitchen.

This was another thing he liked about mornings.

Once the eggs and bacon were done, he set the plates and utensils on the table. Meanwhile Fabrizio did the same with mugs. He served the food onto the plates and sat down by the table. Ermal poured in the coffee, only adding a little bit of sugar and no creamer at all. He needed the energy boost for later.

“ _I’m sorry the eggs are a bit overdone._ ”

Fabrizio started to eat his breakfast. “ _It’s okay... I’m not some prestigious food critic like Gordon Ramsay or anything._ ”

Ermal chuckled. “ _Just imagine. Fabrizio Ramsay. Screaming at the chefs for overcooked eggs._ ”

Fabrizio laughed as well. “ _I couldn’t bring myself to do that._ ”

The two of them ate for a couple minutes, talking about their lives and what would happen once they return to Italy. Fabrizio returned to his room to prepare, and Ermal was left in the kitchen waiting for his still-wet hair to dry. Ermal brushed his teeth and then decided to hang out on the sofa while Fabrizio was getting ready. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his social media.

He posted a few times, but afterwards he ended up Google searching up “Hanahaki Disease” once again. Ermal watched a few videos about the disease, read up some articles, and even scrolled through ask forums trying to get a hint on his situation. Maybe there was another way, other than killing off his feelings for Fabrizio or somehow getting him to love him back. If he looked hard enough maybe, just maybe, it could work out in the end.

Ermal heard Fabrizio exiting his room so he hastily pocketed his phone.

“ _All set?_ ” He asked.

“ _Yeah._ ”

The two of them left the room at around 7 AM, which meant that they were right on time. They were told to meet up with the other delegates in the lobby and wait for the shuttle to pick them up.

Seven thirty rolled around and Fabrizio spotted a car with a small Italian flag on its hood. That must be for them.

“ _I hope they don’t make us do anything embarrassing,_ ” Ermal said.

“ _Well at least you won’t be alone._ ”

The taller man smiled, “ _You’re right._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alksdjfls i can't believe i procrastinated (again) for _two months_  
>  anyways, i'm glad i managed to get a chapter out even after so long  
> enjoy!!


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